Remember
by LavanderLily
Summary: After a hunt gone bad, Clara wakes up having forgotten herself and those around her. SPN AU and OC.
1. Awaken

**Chapter One**

 _ **Awaken**_

 **I don't own anything Supernatural.**

I don't remember what it was like before … before falling.

I've been falling and I guess it's been a long time.

Usually I like to open my eyes and enjoy the dark abyss that has no bottom … the breeze that surrounds me as gravity takes me down. Peaceful.

I don't know if I'll land. Will it hurt? What is hurt? I don't remember.

Sometimes it feels like I'm floating.

* * *

I don't think I've ever gotten bored.

I like to sing songs to myself. Hum melodies that don't have words anymore.

I think I'm forgetting vocabulary, but I wouldn't know the difference.

My dress is soft and silky. My hands don't get sweaty. I'm perfectly cool.

Falling … falling … falling …

* * *

Open my eyes. Close my eyes. Open again. There's no difference.

I'm comfortable with that.

I stretch my limbs with no resistance.

I flip and twirl as I fall before going back to lying in the ocean.

My dark, calm ocean.

* * *

Am I dead? Am I alive?

Is someone looking for me?

I don't know … That's okay.

Falling is nice.

Open my eyes. Close my eyes.

I land hard.

* * *

I forgot I had a nose until there were too many smells to distinguish one from another. Some smells were nice. Some made me want to vomit. But there was something really close and reminded me of an old home I'd forgotten I had …

The back and side of my head feels like it's been crushed with a frying pan multiple times over. Now I really do think I'm going to vomit … breathe in … breathe out … breathe in …

I know there's commotion going on around me, but I can't focus on any one thing to figure it out. It's all … blurred? Blurred. Too many sounds.

My eyes are the last thing that want to open, so I take my time. I focus on my hearing, since that's what is causing the most ache at the moment. I can hear … okay.

There's a steady beeping going. Not incredibly rapid, but the most consistent sound I can pick up. I don't like it. It's loud. I can hear … footsteps. These footsteps must be made by someone large. The pacing is heavy, and more spaced out than the beeping. The person is pacing slowly or is very tall. I hear breathing close by me. It's soothing. There's more, but those sounds are farther away and I decide that my hearing is clear enough for now.

My head feels awful. I'm not going to focus on that.

I can try smells? Smells. The thickest smell is blood. Something must be very wrong around here, someone is very hurt.

Is it me?

Other smells … floor cleaner. Detergent. Pudding. Pie. There's the smell of a man, too … Men wear a type of smell … Cologne! I smell cologne. And leather.

I missed this during the fall. I missed having sensation.

After having answered the questions my brain most needed, I start feeling other things around me. My feet are warm, but not because the room is warm. There's a heated blanket on me. Someone next to me is holding my hand. I'm lying down … my head is heavily cushioned. My chest felt battered. I must've gone through a terrible accident.

The last thing to come to me is thirst. I'm so thirsty. In fact, my throat and tongue and lips are parched. Is this place a desert? I can't open my mouth to say anything, but I need to drink something. Water. I need water. I need to signal the person pacing … the person next to me …

My fingers twitch. Someone cries a gasp.

"Clara ..?!"

* * *

Clara. That's my name. The person, the man, knows me. Maybe he'll help the thirst.

"Clara! Are you there? It's me, Dean!"

"Did she move?!"

Two steps and the pacer is by my other side.

"She twitched-"

"Are you sure?!"

"Yes, I'm sure!"

How do I form words? I need help. I need water.

I open my eyes.

"Holy mother of -"

"Clara! You're here! You're okay!"

The lights in the room are, thankfully, very dim. A few blinks and I can focus on the pair of men at my bedside. One was tall with brown hair ... the other was stockier, with shorter and lighter hair. They're both incredibly concerned.

"Nurse! Nurse, we need some help in here!"

"Clara, we're so happy you're okay!"

These men looked on the verge of tears. Were they friends of mine?

Finally, after an absurdly large amount of effort, my lips parted …

"I need water," I croaked out.

By this time, a woman I assumed was the nurse (because she was checking some charts and the liquids connected to me) had come in and had heard my plea.

"Give me just a second, sweetheart … you have to be awake for a bit before we can give you anything to swallow …"

The man that had been holding my hand growled slightly on the other side of the room, having been waved away by the nurse, while the man still on my right smiled at me. Should I smile back?

A moment passed. The nurse retrieved a small cup of water with a straw, reclined my bed to an upright level, and then placed the cup on a swivel tray at chest height in front of me.

"Can you drink this from here?" The nurse politely asked.

I tried to whisper a yes, but the word was caught in my parched throat. Words failed me, but I picked up my hand and steadied the cup in front of me and pursed my lips just enough for me to suck the water. Water had never tasted so good.

Another silent moment, although from the looks of the other men in the room, it must have been a torturous moment. I finished the water and put the cup down while the nurse was writing away in her chart.

My thoughts felt clearer. The world around me was sharper. My head still ached, but I wanted to walk around, to run. I was fine.

"Am I in a hospital? Am I okay?" I asked.

The nurse responded.

"You've been in an accident, Clara. You've received some head trauma, and your upper body was battered, as well. Can you tell me if you remember this?"

"No. No, I don't."

"Hmm. Do you know the other men in the room with me?"

I looked at the men.

"I feel like I should know them … but … I don't."

The tall man got up and turned away slightly. The shorter man winced.

"That's okay, Clara. You have no traceable relatives, but these two men were the ones that brought you in. They have also brought in their proper identification and have the clearance to be here. Is it okay that they're here with you?"

I looked at them. Heck, I'll get real lonely by myself.

"Yeah, it's okay. When can I leave?"

"Well, that's up to the doctor, but we're glad you're here. I'm going out for a moment but here's my call button if you need anything. Food will be here shortly …" The nurse left.

"Clara … you don't remember me?" The tall man was almost in tears. He was beautiful, I felt sorry that I caused this.

"I'm sorry, I really don't know you. Either of you. Wait, this is a hospital, aren't they supposed to be incredibly strict on visiting hours? None of this makes sense. Why am I here?"

The tall man sat down next to me again. He wiped at his eyes. The other man stood at the foot of my bed.

"Clara, I'm Dean. Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam. We were three peas in a pod and lived on the run together-"

"On the run? From what?"

"Monsters, Clara. Real ones."

A flash. A woman with fangs trying to rip my throat out. Another flash. Someone that looked like me, but wasn't me, trying to cut me down. Third flash. A creature that looked like a dog but human sized. Werewolf.

"We know that might sound crazy-"

"Monsters. No, I … I remember that. I know that. Werewolves and vampires and shapeshifters. Wow. What a life. I was living that life?"

Dean continued.

"Actually, you were really good at it … like … _really_ good. You saw the supernatural and just cut it down, saved a lot of lives along the way."

"Huh."

Sam looked back up at me.

"So, we all just. Lived together? Me with you two?"

Dean coughed and came to my left side.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Have we … Have we known each other for a long time?"

Sam answered this time.

"Yeah, actually it's been three years."

"How old am I?"

Dean laughed.

"You've actually never told us … but now we all know …" Dean looked at my wrist, where my hospital band was resting.

"Clara Jones, female, 25 years old."

"I'm old."

The guys chuckled. I didn't know them, but a part of my heart told me what they were saying was true.

"Why am I here, again?"

"Oh, right, that," Dean started, glancing at the ground.

"Well, there was a hit we stumbled upon but he had tracked us before we got him. Somehow, someway … he got you in your sleep. Now, Sammy and me, we're not deep sleepers, but it happened. We spent a week trying to find you, but you were okay. Because at first, you were just bait to the monster, but we played our cards wrong trying to rescue you … and Clara, you paid the price. I'm so sorry. We're sorry."

Sam turned away again.

"I can't …" Sam painfully gritted out, then left the room.

"Is everything okay?" I questioned.

"He needs time," Dean sighed.

I leaned over to pat Dean's hand.

"Let's eat."


	2. Recovery

**Chapter Two**

 _ **Recovery**_

 **I don't own anything Supernatural.**

The moment the doctor gave the go-ahead on leaving the hospital, I took it and ran; not figuratively, since my brain was still sensitive and too much physical activity made breathing hurt, but metaphorically.

Sam and Dean had been true treasures in support and company. Even though I didn't remember them, they obviously believed I would come around and stuck with me the whole time I was in recovery. When I'm with them, I see in the hope in their eyes, willing me to remember our past, but it's not there. It's weird, because some things I understand with clarity, like monsters and how fiends from legends and fairytales are real. That should be the craziest thing to me, but it's not. Remembering people ended up being the hardest. In any case, nobody else had visited me and a quick look into my file from the hospital revealed what the nurse had told me: I virtually had no other friends or family. It really must've just been me and these boys.

I put on my clothes, which I had been told were washed since I've been in recovery. They were a bit big on me … too much time had passed and I'd lost weight. Ah, well, nothing some good food and time couldn't fix. I left the recovery room and went into the main foyer of the building, where the boys told me they'd wait up for me. I smiled as I walked into the bright room: I loved being with them. I looked around and saw that neither Sam nor Dean were to be found, so I toured the space instead. The open room had floor to ceiling windows that beautifully showcased the wonderful sunny day outside; flowers grew next to the building. Turning around, the receptionist smiled at me while on call with someone in her desk which occupied its own corner. The center of the room had a circle of sofas and chairs and in the far corner there was a grand piano: a sleek Steinway.

I approached the Steinway and sat down to graze the ivory keys with my fingertips. I knew this. I knew pianos. I knew … I knew Chopin. Without thinking, I closed my eyes and started playing a nocturne … there were some mistakes, but my fingers obviously knew what they were doing. Yes, I loved music … I had taken it up as a teenager-

"Clara! I didn't know you could play!"

Sam approached me, a massive grin taking over his face as he leaned on the closed lid.

"I … I didn't know I could. My fingers remember something that my brain doesn't. Muscle memory, I guess."

"That's amazing. Did you … was there anything you were thinking of while you were playing?" He asked, and there it was, his hope. His shining eyes, asking me the real question: did I remember him?

"Yeah, actually, I was thinking about when I was a teenager. I taught myself how to play piano while I was in school since I was a bit of a loner … it seemed like a productive pastime and, if I did it right, it took up all my thinking space. Poof. No space to think about anyone else, just me and the music … I kept playing up until … up until …" I closed my eyes. Not this again. It felt like anything that could open up a recent memory, or could possibly relate to the Winchesters, I couldn't trace. "…up until I met you, I guess," I finished lamely, opening my eyes. I looked up at Sam; he was trying to cover up his momentary lack of hope.

"Oh, well, don't stop practicing on my account. That was great. Anyway, Dean is waiting for us in the car, so we should probably head out-"

"Right, right, sorry," I excused myself, clumsily getting up. I followed him outside where a car stood out that looked like none of the others in the lot. I stopped and gasped.

Flash. I was cold and it was dark outside … the headlights of this car stopped in front of me. A car door opened up … a man came out and asked me if I needed help … Something was coming-

Flash ended. I tripped over the step I'd been taking, but quickly recovered to get inside the Impala. It smelled like the boys.

"Clara! Good to have you back, or at least, most of you," Dean joked from the driver seat.

"Did you pick me up from an old abandoned road when we met?" My mouth inquired without permission.

Dean turned down the music and looked at me from the rearview mirror.

"Yeah. I wasn't going to stop that night, just drive around you, but Sammy made me stop the car so he could get out and help you."

"It was cold outside when it happened," I continued, biting on my lip. Being in the car was my biggest mental break since I woke up. There was something here was trying to tell me … tell me something important. What am I missing?

"Freezing," Sam interjected. "It was October, frost had begun to settle, and you were out in the middle of nowhere with no coat."

"But it wasn't nowhere. There was something out there that night. Something dangerous."

"Clara, are you okay? Your face has gone white," Sam asked, worried.

I shut my eyes tight. Why couldn't I remember? Why did it hurt my head to think? "I'm fine. I just wish I had my memory back."

"Don't push it," Dean advised. "You'll get there, but don't hurt yourself. Hey, anyone want pancakes?" He asked, driving us out of the parking lot.

I kept my eyes shut, but relaxed them so they were just closed. I breathed in, and then out. Dean was right. Forcing myself to do anything was going to get me nothing but a headache.

"Why are you guys keeping me around?" I mumbled, not really wanting an answer because I knew I wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but Sam heard me.

"We're family. We take care of each other," he answered back, but I could hear from his voice that he was holding something back. Family? Or were we closer? Dean and I were like siblings, I could get that, but Sam? He had been too crushed since the beginning. I was going to get to the bottom of all this … but, pancakes first.

* * *

After a day of food and fun, the boys started driving back to their version of home that they coined 'the bunker.' I never had to ask if I was invited, because they both automatically assumed I'd be going with them, which of course I would be. However, the drive was too far for one night and I didn't feel comfortable driving yet so we ended up crashing at a motel. One room with two queens and a pullout couch.

"Hey, Dean?" I called out from the bathroom.

"Yeah?" He answered from the main room.

"Can I call dibs on a bed?"

"Clara, you're the smallest and youngest so couch privileges belong to you."

"Awh, don't be like that-"

"I can take the couch," Sam interrupted calmly.

I spat out my toothpaste and, wiping my face, went to approach Sam … who was well over a foot taller than me.

"Sam, it's okay, you're the biggest so that's why I bugged Dean. Who cares about his back? But you'd be so crushed on the pullout …" I trailed off.

"It's okay, Clara. Don't worry about it," Sam replied. Not looking my way, he grabbed his stuff and moved over to the couch with his laptop; the laptop had been open since we arrived.

"Okay, sure," I whispered to myself, putting my toothbrush away into my new bag; the boys had taken me shopping for new necessities, bless them. I climbed into the bed and shut off the light next to my nightstand. "Night, boys," I said, curling up to my side.

"Night."

"G'night."

I fell asleep soundly, but the world of nightmares was waiting for me in slumber.


	3. Two Steps Back

**Chapter Three**

 ** _. . . Two Steps Back_**

 **I don't own anything Supernatural.**

I'm falling. Again. I recognized the place, the actions, but the feeling was not the same. This was not my calm ocean, in fact, I was terrified. I forced my eyes to stay open, there are things in the dark that can harm you … I am not safe here. No, I am scared but I had to keep my wits. My feet reached for a bottom that wasn't there, my eyes searching for some light, some purchase so I could get my bearings.

Nothing.

Landing was also hard again, but I immediately rose up, frantically turning around. A creature on five legs approached me, all connected to a singular lump of flesh that had no other protrusions to suggest how it could see exactly where I was, how it was coming closer to my exact spot. Four of its legs merged, so now it was walking on three legs … the third leg crept up into the bulge and split. Now it had what resembled legs and arms, still walking towards me, but slower now. Clothes appeared on the now fully formed humanoid, whose blank face now grew the features of a person. The man, now right in front of me, smiled with teeth that resembled a shark's mouth more so than a human mouth … and eyes opened to reveal cat-like pupils tinted blood red.

I wanted to faint, punch his face, and scream into the black abyss … but I was stuck looking into his eyes, his unhinging jaw that was going to eat me-

"Clara! Wake up! Clara, can you hear me?!"

I felt my face being slapped several times.

"I'm awake! Jeez, I'm awake! Stop! Dean, stop smacking me, I'm here!" I lashed out at the hand near my face and sat upright in the process. I rubbed my eyes, noting that my face was wet, and looked at Sam, who was still talking.

"…and you just didn't stop screaming, so what were we supposed to do?" He sighed and ran his hand through his gorgeous hair. "Are you okay? We can't just let you go back to sleep after that … episode. Whatever you want to call it."

"I can't believe you poured water on me," I muttered, getting up to the fridge to retrieve what I knew Dean had bought earlier: a beer. "But ... I don't know. I guess if I wasn't waking up, then I wasn't waking up. I'm sorry I woke you guys. I don't know what happened," I sighed and turned away from the boys to sip from the can.

"Why don't I buy that for a second?" Dean mused. I had my back turned, but I knew that the boys were exchanging a silent communication behind me.

"Clara. We need the truth." Sam walked up to my side and gently touched my shoulder.

"I don't know, okay? People have nightmares and people wake up. And maybe the Clara you guys knew would spill her guts out at-" I glanced at the watch on my wrist "-3AM but I don't want to hash out anything. I just. I had a bad dream. And I'm sorry I woke you guys up, truly, because that sucks and none of us had control over it. But I don't know what happened to cause it and I'm not going to do any soul searching to find out. Especially not with you guys, I don't know you like that. Who knows, maybe I don't want to know you, maybe that's why I got hurt in the first place … And you only know who I was but I don't know if you know me anymore." I said my words coldly and harshly. I felt bad as I dumped out my lies and my cruelty onto Sam and Dean, these beautiful guys that didn't deserve to be treated badly after they had spent so much time cheering me on in the hospital when nobody else did … when these were the guys that spent their money and their feelings on me.

But I couldn't bring myself to face what I saw in my nightmare, and I most certainly did not want to voice my fears. So. This was my deal.

I turned up to look at Sam. He was crushed. I heard Dean's voice from his bed.

"That's nice, Clara. That's real nice. And in fact, I think you're right. We don't know who you are anymore, because the girl we knew is not the girl that woke up in the hospital. And you are absolutely right, the Clara from the past would have told us the truth, but you? You don't know us like that. And apparently, you don't want to. So. If there's nothing personal tying you down here, and if you don't feel like you owe us an ounce of gratitude or kindness, well. There's the door." Dean stood up and looked at me with an emotion I'd never seen before: total disgust.

I looked over at Sam again, whom had covered his face … if I knew him better, maybe I'd know what it was he was feeling. Wait… was he..? Was he crying?

"Well. I guess this is goodbye," I mumbled. I hastily grabbed my pack, left my drink on the nightstand, and went out. The summer weather treated me nicer than I deserved … it was warm and breezy, the moon lighting the dark. Tears in my eyes, I began walking away from the motel and into the night.

* * *

The motel the boys had picked really was in the middle of nowhere. I followed the road connected to the motel driveway and wiped my eyes from the tears that kept spilling over onto my shirt and onto the ground.

I can't believe I yelled at Sam and Dean like that. I liked the boys so much, and they treated me like family … I obviously didn't have any other family, so why would I take my one chance and blow it like that? I'm such an idiot.

Another part of me was fidgeting around with my nightmare and tried to justify my actions as protection from what I feared … but ultimately, I knew Sam and Dean were right. I could've told the truth, instead of telling them that I didn't want to be around them or that they didn't know me. Those two were the only ones that did know me, and were like sticky notes around a messy desk, full of reminders …

But I guess there's no use thinking about it now.

Wiping my eyes again, I looked up and saw I was at an intersection. The road I was on continued straight, and back to the highway, but the other road was gravel and lead into the high grass and wheat surrounding the area. I took the gravel road, not wanting some traveler to stop their car and take me to who-knows-where. Better to stay in the middle of nowhere.

I walked for a long time. I saw the sunrise, and watched the birds fly around. The gravel road went farther than I thought it would, but that was okay. I had an extra water in my pack and sipped from it occasionally.

The problem with my nightmare wasn't that it was a nightmare. It was real. I had seen that creature before, and the monster had had a chance to hurt me in the past. I didn't know the monster's name, but it sure knew me and could find me again. Talking about it made it real, and saying anything about the thing out loud … my biggest fear was that acknowledging it, even in conversation, could lead it back to me. I didn't want that to happen, ever.

After walking for a full day, and noticing that sundown was almost upon me, I came across a large wooden building with a neon sign that read _Harvelle's Roadhouse_ ; there were a couple of cars in the accompanying driveway. Perhaps I could catch a break here?


	4. A Reunion

**Chapter Four**

 _ **A Reunion**_

 **I don't own anything Supernatural.**

Before I was halfway to the door of the Roadhouse, where I was happily looking forward to sitting down and getting some chow, a car skid its way into the parking lot and rapidly shut off. An all-too-familiar Impala with an-all-too-familiar man coming out of the passenger door.

"Clara! I've spent all day looking for you! How did you end up here?!" Sam easily approached me in a few strides with his manners and voice betraying how worried he was.

"I thought you didn't want to see me anymore, Sam! How did you find me?" I swallowed and took a step back, really feeling how Sam towered over me for a hot second. It was incredibly intimidating, this man knew himself very well and could be as dangerous as he'd like.

"Clara, of course I don't want you to go away. Look, Dean had a moment but … I didn't say a word when you were leaving even though I should have. I know you're still coming to terms with whatever form of amnesia you have but that's when you need support the most, not a fight. Especially not from us, and not from me. Look, I … I know you don't remember, but you and I, Clara … we were really close and I owe it to myself and more importantly to you to be there when it matters. Not just owe it, I want to be there for you. Memories or no. And hey, maybe we get a chance to meet all over again," Sam finished his words breathlessly, approaching me once more and putting his hands on my arms, the arms that I had crossed in front of me. I wanted to try and pull away, but I looked up into Sam's hazel eyes and realized I didn't want to move. If I was going to make-up for the fight I started, now was the moment.

"Sam … I … I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said those things, it wasn't just you, it was me, too. And … and … I don't want to forget anything anymore. I want to stay with you … I can't remember everything but something inside me has been telling me since the beginning that we … belong together," I stopped, wondering if those were the words that I wanted to say, that they came out right, but I found them to be true. Every word. So I took a breath and continued: "Dean too, of course. I just. It's weird, it's like I've been trying to put together a mental puzzle without all the pieces. But I'm not going to finish the puzzle shunning away the only people close to me."

Sam smiled, and if I wasn't a religious person before I sure was now. God bless. His smile overshadowed the sunset behind us, he was his own sun. Without hesitating, I took my arms and hugged him like I'd never hugged anyone before and was touch-deprived. Sam hugged back, and that was the moment Dean came out of the Impala.

"I see Sam got through … He knew you'd need to go one at a time," Dean muttered, coming over to where Sam and I were. "My turn, kiddo. It wasn't okay for me to say what I said earlier and I'm sorry. Please don't go anywhere when you have a home here with us."

"That's okay Dean, I forgive you. I wasn't being fair with you and also said some things I didn't mean." I smiled and hugged Dean, whose embrace was short but incredibly meaningful.

"Now, tell us how you ended up here?" Sam asked.

"Oh, right," I looked over to the roadhouse. "I found a gravel road-" the mention of a gravel road caused Dean to blow a raspberry and Sam to roll his eyes "-and just followed it until I ended up here. Actually, that's it, that's the story. If you guys were looking for me then how did you not find me sooner?" I asked, laughing now.

Sam and Dean shared a look … someone lost a bet.

"Uh … we were looking in the wrong direction at first," Dean mumbled. "But! Little did you know, Clara, that we actually know the owner of this place and can get you VIP access," Dean added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Sure, sounds good," I responded automatically, knowing my eyes would show how skeptical I was. I looked back to Sam, who was shaking his head at Dean. Dean had already started towards the building.

"Right," Sam said, chuckling. "After you, Clara," he finished.

"Don't mind if I do," I replied with a smile.

* * *

Harvelle's was a clean establishment but definitely not 100% family friendly. That was my first thought as we came in to the bar/restaurant, which was a healthy amount of full: not empty, but not at capacity. Looking around, it looked like most of the guys around here (and it was mostly guys) all had some sort of personal problem or faces bearing scars. Or both.

But no matter, I obviously had a story of my own.

"Ellen! Your favorite person has walked through the door!" Dean hollered at the counter as he picked what must be his favorite barstool. Sam and I joined him on his left, so I was in between the two men.

"Could you not make a ruckus for once in your life, Winchester?" A womanly, motherly voice responded as 'Ellen' came around the corner. She gasped when she saw me.

"Clara! I see you're still alive and kicking! Why-ever you'd want to stay with these two rapscallions is still a mystery, though," Ellen came around the counter, coming over to … oh, goodness, this woman wanted a hug. I complied stiffly. "Well, what's wrong? You look like you've never seen me before in your life," Ellen joked.

"Oh, actually, um. You've pretty much hit the nail on the head, there, Ellen. I was in an accident not long ago and I lost a chunk of my memories along the way. Sometimes I remember things, sometimes I don't."

Ellen's eyes grew wide as she heard my story, making her way back behind the counter. She looked at me, then the boys. Grabbing a newspaper off the counter, she rolled it up and smacked the boys on the head with the periodical.

"You boys broke her! How dare you-" She smacked Dean again.

"Ellen! Ellen, it's not like we meant to," Sam defended to no avail because Ellen took his words and used it as ammo to whack him again.

"Aha! And then you wonder why I never let Jo leave," she finished, putting the paper down and promptly grabbing a couple glasses, filling them with beer from the tap.

"Jo can handle herself!" Dean continued fruitlessly.

"That's what you said about Clara! But once again, you were wrong and she's the one who paid the price for it. Headstrong chickens," Ellen huffed. She turned to give the three of us glasses. I cautiously tasted it … it was good, cold beer. Ellen had the works in my book.

"Enough talk. Clara, do you want a burger? My cook has nothing going on right now but can make his best just for you," Ellen offered.

"That would be great, Ellen," I accepted.

"What? No burgers for us," Dean asked, mock offended.

"Y'all know how to piss a woman off," Ellen grunted, heading into the kitchen.

I giggled.

"Oh, oh you think this is funny," Dean asked, again mock offended.

"I think it's hilarious. Ellen's great, in my opinion," I replied, full on laughing now. "You broke me!"

"Oh, c'mon Clara," Sam responded this time. "We didn't … we didn't _break_ you. We're just missing a piece …"

"That's called broken!" I kept laughing, swallowing my drink so it didn't spew out my nose.

"How is it that it's only loud in here when the three musketeers arrive?" Another voice approached us, except this time it came from a woman a bit younger than myself.

"Hey, Jo," the boys greeted.

"Jo?" I asked

Flash. Jo and I, stealing Dean's keys and taking the Impala out for a test drive. The scene changed. I was in the kitchen, helping Ellen cook on a particularly busy night. End flash.

"Clara!" Jo cheered.

I hugged her, except this time I knew why I was embracing the person. Jo and I are friends.

"Jo! I know you!" I joined her enthusiasm.

"Well, yeah," Jo said, slightly confused that I would say something so obvious.

"No, no, no. You don't understand," I said, catching my breath from my laughter. "I'm suffering from amnesia, but I remember you! And I also remember Ellen! We're pretty tight," I answered fully, my manners becoming less stiff. I relaxed back into my seat. Of course the joint was full of sketchy people, they were hunters like Sam and Dean. Like me.

"Oh, you're kidding," Jo replied, her eyebrows going up as her look went to the boys. Dean put his hands up.

"You got us," Dean responded.

"Well. I'm glad you remember us, at the least," Jo segued from the topic. "Is my mom getting you guys some food?"

"Yeah, she's in the kitchen," Sam replied.

"Good, good," Jo said as she went behind the counter to refill our drinks.

Ellen came back out with a tray of burgers, fries, and onion rings.

"Bon a petit, idiots," Ellen said, putting the tray down.

"Thanks." "Thank you!" "Ellen, you're the best." Sam, Dean, and I said at the same time. We dug in.


	5. Recuperate

**Chapter Five**

 _ **Recuperate**_

 **I don't own anything Supernatural.**

Who knew that after a full day of walking with no food a few drinks could get you tipsy?

Okay, I should've realized it was happening, but I was so happy with my friends, my family, that I got comfortable. Too comfortable. Not to mention that Ellen's cooking was to die for.

I giggled, snorting with each inhalation.

"No, no way! I would've never-" snort "-what was I thinking trying to eat Dean's pie in front of him?!"

"You did, and I'm not sure if I've fully forgiven you," Dean replied, and his words could've divided a wedge between us … if he weren't laughing along with me.

I felt myself falling off my barstool, but my brain didn't catch up until after Sam had caught me.

"Whoa! Have one too many there, Clara?"

"Whaaaat? No-" snort "-way. Nope. No way." I leaned into Sam, and took in how gorgeous he was. I can see why past me fell for him, he was beautiful and such a caring, compassionate guy.

"Really?" Sam asked, smiling as he caught me red-handed.

"Okay. Maybe. Maybe just one too many. That's what I get for leaving you."

"We have a couple extra guest rooms, if you guys need to crash for a night," Jo offered as she passed by. As the night came, the roadhouse became busier and she was only chit-chatting between waitressing.

"No, I think we'll head out, thanks for the offer," Sam answered as he slowly got me on my two feet. I watched him carefully … he didn't need to be this close to me, right? I wasn't drunk. I knew where everything on me was, and remembered to grab my bag that I had put under my stool. Yet, there Sam stayed for every move.

I didn't mind.

"Hey, I know you guys got busy, but tell Ellen thank you for what she's done for us. Here's what we owe, plus tip and interest for … well … I mean, we're our own kind of mess." Dean left a wad of cash on the counter that Jo smoothly took and put in her shirt.

"No problem, guys. Thanks for stopping by, it's been awhile. No chance you know when you'd stop by again?" Jo got on her tiptoes when she asked, looking up at Dean. Dean looked down at his feet.

"Unfortunately, no. Sorry, Jo. But we'll be back soon."

"That's okay. Don't let the door hit ya on your way out," she joked, picking up trays of food and going back out into the dining area.

Dean turned around.

"You two ready to go?"

"Yeah." "Right behind ya."

* * *

Okay, maybe Sam did need to be close to me and maybe I was tipsier than I thought.

As we got out to the parking lot, the dark blurred all of the cars together and I guess I started going sideways while trying to follow Dean and look for the Impala.

"Hey, Clara, where're you going? Car's over here," Sam said teasingly while steadying me.

"I'm going with you guys, obviously. Like. Obviously. Right. I think you're right, definitely one too many." I hiccupped. How embarrassing, I was going on a car ride with the two guys I just made up with only to make a fool of myself along the way.

I heard a car door slam and looked up. Dean had already gotten in the car. Wow, what a loser I was taking forever in the parking lot.

"I'm sorry, I'm taking sooooo long. I can't focus, can't see right."

"That's okay, baby, we're almost there," Sam answered, taking my arm and putting it around his waist to keep me up (since his shoulders were too high).

"You're so tall," I mentioned to him, giggling again. Wait. God. Stop. Stop it, I'm such a mess.

Did he call me baby?

"Why do you always say that?" He asked under his breath, chuckling. Sam opened up the back door, and gently made sure all of my limbs were safely inside before closing my door and getting in himself.

"How are we doing back there?" Dean asked, driving us off.

"Tipsyyyy. Going napnap."

"Just don't get sick back there, okay? You know how I feel about my baby."

"Baby? That's what Sam called me! I think he likes me," I sang. You know what, why even bother trying to be coy. I was drunkish and probably only going to remember bits of this tomorrow. The important bits. Depending.

"Right. Take a snooze, Clara."

"Mm. Bye," I said, putting my head down and closing my eyes.


	6. Moving Forward

**Chapter Six**

 _ **Moving Forward**_

 **I don't own anything Supernatural.**

I opened my eyes. I didn't recognize where I was or how I got there.

I'm on top of a bed that wasn't made … white and gray sheets. The room looked like it was made from concrete. Simple items, except for a couple posters that suggested to me this place must be … mine?

I got up from the bed, my bare feet wanting to curl away from the cold, bare floor, but I walked over to the bookshelf on the left side. Ignoring the pain in my head, I checked out the books … mostly lore, from the looks of it, but also fiction. Lord of the Rings. An old edition of Narnia … that I got when I was around 12 years old … That's mine …

There were two posters, flanking the door. One was of a band, The Birthday Massacre … the other was Michael Jackson from the cover of Thriller. I knew both were mine, I remembered buying them.

At least I wasn't a stranger to my own tastes.

I opened up the drawers and picked around at the clothes. Everything suggested that it was meant for me, from underwear to t shirts to jeans to sweaters … including a purple one that I loved. All my size. All my stuff.

I live here. This is my home. Why can I recall of the stuff inside of this room, but not moving into the room? It made no sense.

I picked up some fresh clothes, the toothbrush and toothpaste I found in the first drawer, and a towel. I needed one good shower … Where was my soap..? And my phone..?

Someone knocked on the door.

"Clara? Are you alive?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Do you know if I have shampoo anywhere?"

The door opened and Dean gave me a once over. Yes, his eyes said, I was just as fine as I said I was.

"Shower's down the hall to the left, you can use my shampoo. Sam's cooking blueberry pancakes and there's fresh coffee, too, so hurry up."

"Don't rush me," I complained.

"Hey, you're the one that started singing and almost jumped out of the car window last night-"

"Wait, what?! I didn't even have that much to drink and it was just beer-"

Dean cocked an eyebrow and lifted a large, unfamiliar flask.

"This was under the driver's seat and you chugged it at some point … and no, it was not beer."

I shoved Dean out of the way to find the shower before he could see my face go red.

* * *

I shouldn't have been surprised that the shower was actually multiple showers; a communal space. I lived in a … well, communal living place of some sort but not a dormitory. There had to be a word for that?

 _Bunker. That's what Sam and Dean called it._

There were five branches of showers, split into two lines: three showers and then another two behind that. Each shower branch had three shower heads and a shelf; the branch on the far right corner had soap, shampoo bottles, a toothbrush … The one on the far left had a hot pink comb.

That must've been mine. The far right must be Dean's; he left his cleaning stuff in here.

Putting my towel and clothes on the bench before going into the shower room, I looked around really quickly … I had my phone and needed something small …

Using a small but clean shower caddy, I put my phone inside the box to amplify the sound from my phone and started playing Night Ranger; my cell had automatically connected to the WiFi and, more importantly, YouTube.

The shower water was hot and nice; I watched the room go steamy as I took my time getting washed.

I knew about YouTube, but not my time with the boys? I knew how to get dressed and talk and do all of my routines, but not about the men that seem to be my only company in this life? Everything about them just draws a blank, and it gnawed on me endlessly. It's like I had all I needed, except when it came to Sam and Dean.

Sam.

Dean.

Winchester?

Thinking about them separately still didn't garner any new thoughts on them; the hangover didn't help. What a load of crap. I had to know something that wasn't said before, a bona fide memory to ensure that I knew them the way that they obviously knew me … the way I must've known them before the accident. I had gotten comfortable around here, that's for sure … the posters, the wardrobe, the comb, Sam knowing my favorite breakfast food … Sam, Sam, Samuel –

Flash.

 _"Yeah, I was named after my grandfather Samuel," Sam admitted, chuckling. We're snuggling on a couch, the one in a lounging room in the bunker, and we're watching The Proposal. I had picked it since I was in the mood for something happy and cheesy, Sam was only too happy to go along with it. However, we had begun talking right away … it was too easy to get along with him, and I loved him for it._

 _"Everyone always thinks my parents loved Tchaikovsky too much, but yeah, Clara is a family name, too," I answered, smiling from ear to ear as he rubbed my arm. I was warm and comfortable with Sam._

 _"Don't tell him I said this, but Dean was named after our grandma," Sam snickered._

 _"There's nothing wrong with that," I replied, smacking his leg as he tried to control his laugh._

 _"No, no! I think so too, her name was Deanna! It's just that he hates talking about it, I can already see his face," Sam continued, his focus solely on me at this point. I was snug against his chest, his arms around my torso, our legs intertwined on the large couch._

 _"Ah, well, I promise to keep my lips locked," I said, tilting around so I could see his face._

 _"Oh? Do you mean these lips?" Sam asked before leaning in for a kiss._

Flash ended.

My legs gave out and my butt landed on the tile floor, the hot water rushing over my face.

What was that?

The door banged loudly.

"Sister Christian! It's been 20 minutes, you good?"

"Uh … yeah! Yeah, I'm fine! Thank you! Coming right out!" My voice was strained but loud and assuring.

My first memory of the boys. My first real memory of Sam. And I didn't know what to do with it.

* * *

I made quick work getting out of the bathroom as soon as I could; my hangover pain was nothing compared to the turmoil broiling beneath my skin.

Should I bring this up to Sam? That I remember how close we used to be? But I don't feel that way about Sam, or at least not anymore, so I shouldn't mention an intimate moment like that only to turn away from him. But that's the first time I've really remembered something; what if talking about it helped break the rest of the dam linking me to my past?

So many questions, so much to think about.

My hair was wet and frizzy and I was wearing sweatpants with a blue t-shirt. Obviously, my thoughts were not on my appearance … I didn't know where the kitchen was, but I followed the scent of bacon to find a kitchenette with a table where the boys were sitting.

"Clara! You're alive!" Dean teased as I walked in to sit down with him.

"Good morning, I made breakfast and plenty of it so help yourself," Sam said, smiling.

"Thanks," I replied quietly, grabbing a plate from the table to help myself; I loved blueberry pancakes, the bacon was just right, a dark roast coffee had been brewed; there were eggs and fresh fruit, too.

"This is some of my favorite breakfast food," I commented, sitting down to begin eating.

"You, ah, had a rough night so I thought it'd be nice," Sam replied from behind his mug of black coffee.

Suddenly, Dean got up.

"I left some newspaper in my room …" he awkwardly interjected, leaving. That was weird. But now it was just me and Sam.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"I think he … I don't know. Don't worry about it," Sam sighed.

A moment passed. I stopped chewing to stare at Sam, his face and his hair and his eyes. He was beautiful. He _liked_ me at some point, maybe he still does? I know he and I were pretty friendly yesterday, from what I remember.

Sam was staring back, and I noticed he look confused.

"Uh … is there something in my teeth?"

"Wait, what? Oh … no, no, you're fine. I just. Uh," I started fidgeting with my fork and looking around, anywhere but him.

"Is everything okay? Did you need something?"

"I'm good, I'm great, I'm just, ah … hangover! Yep, I have one. And I'm not thinking straight," I clamored my words together, finally making sense out of my mumbling and stuttering.

"Oh. I can get you some water, too," Sam got up and made his way to the sink, his words kind but his shoulders were stiff.

"Yeah. Water," I echoed, still sounding like an invalid.

He came back and used his long arms to place the glass of water in front of me, barely having to bend over. I took a shallow sip and put the glass back down.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam asked again, this time determined to get a real answer from me.

"Sam," I stated his name, knowing I had made up my mind to tell him what I had remembered earlier.

"Yeah?" He answered patiently.

"I had a memory come back to me this morning. Of us. It was us two, together, in the bunker, and we were … we were pretty close and friendly, and watching a movie, and it seemed like we were pretty into each other. We were talking, but also … well, we were together and also not talking because our mouths were busy doing something else," I finished my retelling and promptly closed my lips to stop any other words from coming out. I needed to hear his response.

Sam's eyes shone with hope and light as he replied.

"Yeah, that was a good day. Is that all you know right now?"

"That's the first real memory I have of my time here with you … or related to you and my recent past, yeah."

"Okay. Did you wanna talk about it? I …" Sam's hazel eyes glanced down for a second before coming back up to look at me, his look a bit more downcast than it was. "I realize that's probably a bit disorienting, I mean, sure you remember something that happened but I read that it might feel like you're … like it was someone else doing those things, and not you."

"Yeah, that's what it felt like. It's frustrating is what it is. It's so weird because I recognize my all of my stuff around here, and when I woke up this morning I didn't even know where I was, I just knew that all of my stuff was here. I'm seeing all of the dots, but it's like my mind doesn't know how to connect them. I'm kinda sick of it."

"That's understandable."

"I mean, I can play piano! I remember taking lessons when I was younger, but I don't remember anything about that as soon as it would relate to you and Dean. I know I saw my pink comb in the shower, but I don't remember ever being in the shower. These are my favorite pancakes, but dear God I don't remember telling you that they're my favorite. I know about monsters and our lifestyle, but I don't remember hunting with you and Dean. Maybe it's not that I'm having super amnesia about my life, it's just everything connected to you guys is wiped completely. I wish it wasn't, because from what I can tell, you two are all I've got. Quite literally. It's just so bizarre and off."

"You do still play piano, we have one in the bunker. You have two binders full of sheet music. You bought the comb last Christmas as a gag gift for Dean, along with a couple other things, but ended up using it yourself. I know these are your favorite pancakes because one night you were complaining about me and Dean not having good taste, and dragged us to the closest market so you could make everything from scratch. And we met you one night during a hunt, but you had already seen the monster before we found you out in the middle of nowhere." Sam had started to lean in slowly as he connected dots for me, his demeanor amicable and patient. I held up my head with my hands, my elbows on the table, listening to everything Sam told me. It all sounded … right. Every single story he told me I knew was 100% truth.

But damn it all if I couldn't remember one of those memories.

"Does any of that ring a bell?" Sam asked, his eyebrows going up in inquisition.

"Nope," I groaned.

"We'll keep trying. Who knows, you could just wake up one morning and not have this problem anymore," Sam said, smiling.

"You're optimistic," I noted, going back to the bacon; it hadn't gotten cold yet, thankfully.

"Just persistent," Sam corrected with a laugh. "And until you remember, just know that I'm here for you, and so is Dean."

"Looks like you were more than here for me before the accident," I casually added, which led Sam to blush.

"Not funny, Clara."

"I think it is," I teased.

"You don't even remember! I was there, you were there, it was good!"

"I'm sure it was!" I answered again, laughing.

"I'll tell you what, you may not know me like you did but you're still the same Clara."

"Good to know," I replied with a mouthful of pancake.


	7. Breakthrough

**Chapter 7**

 _ **Breakthrough**_

 **I don't own anything Supernatural.**

The rest of breakfast passed uneventfully and quietly as I stuffed my face; gosh, I was hungry.

"Well, mi casa es su casa, Clara. Feel free to do as you'd like," Sam said as he picked up the dishes.

"Oh, thanks," I replied as I helped up clean up. "Except, well. I don't know where anything is … Could you show me around?" I asked.

Sam and I made quick work to clean up what was left before he turned and smiled at me.

"Of course."

* * *

"Okay, so, this is the main entrance … The stairs lead up to the exit," Sam explained.

Everything was clean and crisp; the walls were full of books. The large table had a mug halfway full of coffee; Dean had stopped by here earlier.

"Wait, did you … you guys carried me down those steps?" I asked, embarrassed.

Sam chuckled. "It wasn't that bad, you're pretty small," he assured.

"Right …" I went off to turn the desk light on then off, fidgeting.

"Okay, then down here we have …" Sam trailed off as we walked down a different hallway. This place must be huge.

One door was slightly ajar and I took a peek; a plethora of car makes and models were parked in the spacious room.

"You guys have a parking garage down here?"

"I think the better question is what don't we have," Sam answered, his face still bright as he stopped to turn to me. I caught up to his side before we continued walking.

"This one might be familiar," Sam said, taking us into a comfy looking lounge of sorts. And, as he had mentioned that morning, a large Steinway piano took up its own corner.

"That is a beaut," I whispered and went to it to stroke the lid … I picked up the lid to prop it open before sitting down to the ivory keys. The music stand was open to a sonata … pathetique movement two by Beethoven …

I read the music almost effortlessly, my fingers stretching across the keys. I looked up to see Sam had sat down in a massive maroon chaise, watching me.

I abruptly took my hands off the keys, forgetting to take my foot off the pedal that sustained the last chord in the air.

"Oh, you didn't have to stop," Sam protested gently.

"That's okay … hey, remember the day I got out of the hospital? I thought you said you didn't know I could play piano," I told Sam, confused.

"I didn't. I thought after the brain damage you had that … well, I wasn't sure what you were going to be when you woke up. Doctor had said it could be like meeting someone new during recovery," Sam explained.

"Sweet serendipity," I sighed and got up to walk around … there was a pool table I made my way to and stroked the green velvet in the center. The solid and striped balls were strewn across the table; an unfinished game. Like most of the bunker I've seen, the walls were full of shelves containing books of all shapes and sizes. The lowest shelf contained music – vinyl.

"Who was winning?" I asked in reference to the pool game.

"Dean. But he was also losing … playing a game against himself," Sam chuckled.

Sam's phone buzzed.

"Oh … excuse me, Clara …" Sam walked out of the room to take the call.

I looked around the room again, approaching the piano once more. This time, I felt an urge to open up the piano bench to reveal more music and a pink, fuzzy journal.

I knew this journal. It was mine. I write everything in it. Why did I leave it in here? Maybe the bench offered the most privacy, since the hinges were hidden underneath the seat of the bench, practically on the legs.

In any case, I was glad to have it back. I lifted the latch to find entries dating back from when I was still in high school; this was not a small notebook and I always wanted to record everything I did. When I was a kid, I'd thought I'd write my autobiography when I was rich and famous. Now it held everything I needed to catch back up to speed on my life. Thanks, past me.

* * *

I went out of the room, surprised that Sam wasn't right outside the door, but traced my steps back to my room.

The place was huge. I didn't run into Sam nor Dean on my way back to my room. Good. I didn't want to have to explain the journal, something I know I wouldn't have shown them.

I got to my room and locked the door behind me. I took a moment to make my bed, something I hadn't done that morning, before sitting down and leaning on the headboard.

I could see exactly in the journal where I was excited, sad, sleepy, or bored. The handwriting varied from entry to entry, and some pages were just doodles.

After around a quarter of the journal in, after some droll text about my life not going the way I had planned, there it was. My first entry about how I had met the Winchesters.

 _Journal,_

 _I don't know anything anymore. Monsters are real. I … I just don't know._

 _Okay, to start off, I was gonna spend the day at the orchard with friends. Normal, fall Halloween-y stuff. Right? Except no. I don't know how but I guess I was the first one there for meeting up (and since when am I the early one?) I decided it'd be a good time to also buy a ticket for the corn maze right next door. Journal, this is where it got weird._

 _I was crossing through the orchard to get to the maze, and it was decently busy? A couple families, some people in the gift shop buying cider (because why go to an apple orchard and not get cider, that's honestly a sin of some sort). But someone knocked me out. Like. Whang-bang, you're on the ground unconscious, knocked out. And journal, it HURT. I don't wanna do that again._

 _When I woke up, I was tied-up in a basement and it was almost dark outside. I wasn't the only one in the room, there were other bodies in there, but … they were … dead. Journal, I was tied up in a room with corpses! There was blood all over the floor and I freaked out so bad but I knew if I started to go into melt-down mode I'd be done for! It was only my hands that were tied so I managed to get up … I was in a basement of an abandoned shack and it must have been out in the abandoned fields behind the orchard, or at least that what I could see out from the windows. I found a knife in the room so I cut myself out of the knots, completely scratching myself up in the process. I had no phone, no way of knowing if anyone knew where I was. The door to get out of the room was sealed shut from the outside … I'm not super proud of what I did next, Journal._

 _The windows were only ****JUST** out of reach … so I piled a couple of the dead bodies to reach the window._

I stopped reading for a second and covered my eyes. Oh, my God. It was all coming back to me. These pages already had water marks on them but I just added more from more tears that were spilling out. This was terrifying and so out of place from all the entries up to this point. And I remembered that day.

I continued reading.

 _Journal, I had never prayed harder than I was praying that day. I just needed to get out, I needed to escape. I'm not ready to die. When I finally could reach the window, could finally get up and get out, the window was stuck so I had to smash it open to crawl out. After being knocked unconscious and put into this room, so who knows what head damage I have, I'm also officially all cut up and bruised. My jacket ripped off._

 _It was so cold outside but I started running, hoping that whoever put me in the basement wouldn't find me or notice I was gone. Eventually, I saw headlights in front of me and slowed down … maybe that wasn't a smart idea since I didn't know if they'd be good guys or bad guys._

 _Just my luck. They were good guys._


End file.
